Joey sat slumped in her chair, long legs stretched out in front of her and shoulders turned in, an attempt to block out the other people in the room. The teacher's words meant nothing; in fact, they hadn't meant anything in at least the last half an hour. She wanted out.

Joey tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ear and turned her head, glancing at the people around her. Nothing registered apart from a mass of faces and colours, and she wiped her eyes, frustrated, the ache in her head spreading to her neck and shoulders.

She felt a foot dig into her calf, and turned sharply, the drone of the Miss Carling's voice drifting around her. Joey met Pacey's grin and scowled.

"Yeah Pace," she hissed. "I can see that my personal torture is your new occupation."

Pacey cocked his head to the side, grinning and prodding her again with his foot. "It's that clear?"

Joey gritted her teeth. "As glass. Now perhaps you'd like to remove your body part from my leg before I personally take it in myself to shove yours a place where the sun doesn't shine."

Pacey only grinned. "Is that a promise?"

"No, Pacey, it's a threat. And my sexual antics take place, preferably with a member of the same species. So you're barking up the wrong tree, pulling the wrong plug, hoping for a little too much...." She trailed off, smiling brightly.

Pacey was silent or a moment and she thought that she'd left him without possible comment. Yeah, like that was possible. "Domination," he murmured. "I like it."

Joey stared at him disgustedly until she heard a sharp voice pierce through the air. "Miss Potter?"

"Oh shit," she murmured, turning quickly in her seat, not quite quickly enough to miss Pacey's smug, anticipatory expression. She smiled cheerfully, the movement straining her face. She cursed herself, and even more so Pacey, silently. She looked to the side and could see Dawson's sympathetic expression.

"Uh, yeah?"

Miss Carling raised one delicately plucked eyebrow. "Of course there would be a reason for the fact your back was turned Josephine?"

Joey sighed. "There's always a reason, Miss Carling. It's just not always the one you want to hear." She winced, seeing the teacher's face contort in annoyance and anger.

"Deep, Josephine. Shouldn't you be taking sociology?"

Joey shrugged. "Full class. And as a senior I take note that priority does not go to upper-classmen. I suppose morality's just much more of a problem with the younger students." Joey lifted her chin and looked straight at the teacher. "And besides, modern theatre was so clearly my wildly appropriate second choice."

Miss Carling sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sure we'll make an actress of you yet, Josephine."

Joey glared at Dawson, who had his head in his hands, laughing silently. She didn't even want to imagine Pacey's expression. She turned back to the teacher. "I'll take it that's more the "wow-I-hope-it'll-happen" kind of sure, as opposed to the clearly less redundant "the-sun-will-shine" kind of sure."

Miss Carling looked confused and Joey sighed, embarrassment and realisation hitting her as she was faced with the amused glances of her classmates. She groaned inwardly.

Finally the teacher regained her control. "You'll be "taking it" any way you want Miss Potter, in detention this evening." Joey rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "Along with your friend Mr Witter."

Joey lifted her head again at this last remark, a small amount of pleasure apparent on her face. "Less of a friend Miss Carling. More of a cretin who's inhabiting the body of a...." She paused, searching for a word. "Teenage boy. No adjectives necessary."

Miss Carling scowled at her. "Well, I'm sure the bond between the two of you will grow and develop during the following month."

Joey coughed, a bad feeling growing from the pit of her stomach. "Uh, I'm seriously hoping that that's not a scientifically based observation."

Miss Carling kept a straight face. "No, a curriculum-based one."

"Um... what?"

The teacher smiled brightly, standing to her feet and pulling the books from the table and pushing them into her bag. "Your next project Miss Potter. A paired work detailing one aspect of modern life. Written, created and performed solely by members of this class."

Joey could imagine Dawson's face without even turning around. She closed her eyes for a moment, panic and annoyance only adding to the throbbing in her head.

"Paired being the operative work?" she asked wearily.

Miss Carling smiled. "Why of course. And considering your and Mr Witter's obviously enlightened conversation a few minutes ago, creative energy won't be a problem."

"No, I think the problem lies somewhere outside the "energy" factor altogether."

Miss Carling seemed to take pleasure in her student's discomfort. "Well I'm sure it's something you'll be able to explore thoroughly since you'll be working together for the next month."

Joey buried her head in her hands, hearing Pacey groan loudly behind her. "What?" she hissed, turning back around to glare at him. "How limited is your knowledge again? Tell me you didn't see that coming."

He shot her a glance. "I didn't see that coming."

"Prick," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh, I was ready for that one," he murmured. "Control freak."

"Oh really?" she whined sarcastically. "You mean...shock of all possible shocks, Pacey "low-down" Witter thinks I am, and I quote here, a "control freak"? Please, someone hand me the lithium."

Pacey clucked his tongue. "Mmmm. "Looks like a certain someone's coming face to face with the realities of the establishment."

Joey glared at him. "Shut that hole which substitutes for a mouth, Pacey, I've heard enough."

"Joey!" Miss Carling's voice was sharp, angry. Joey winced and turned back around, ducking her head and hating the sound of soft laughter around the classroom.

**************************

Joey slammed her locker door with obvious impatience when she felt a gentle hand against her shoulder. She turned and glared, with even less patience. The young man looked down at her and she smiled.

"Dawson," she said quietly.

"Joey." He placed an arm around her back and guided her towards the main entrance. "How's the prodigy public speaker?"

Joey winced. "Ah, something's telling me that you're referring to my little scene in Modern Theatre this morning."

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "Joey, in this case the words "little" and "scene" are hardly synonymous."

Joey shot him a look. "Oh, Dawson, such the realist...."

He grinned as they walked through the door and towards a bench on the grass. "True. How are you coping?"

Joey collapsed onto the bench and pulled her knees up to her chest. "To which aspect are you referring?" she asked tiredly. "Pacey's ever-current antagonism? My detention? The project? Pacey? Pacey, for the third and final time?"

Dawson tried not to smile. "I think you got it in one, Jo."

Joey gave him a twisted smile, leaning against his shoulder. "God, Dawson," she said wearily. "I'm not looking forward to a month working with the one who does not work."

"That's the only reason you're sitting here in ugly anticipation? His workload, or lack thereof?"

Joey shook her head against his shoulder. "Nah. I don't know Dawson, but the two of us have never been the best of friends."

"Maybe that will change."

"Yeah, Dawson, and maybe I'll buy that peroxide. Learn, observe and believe: there are some things that were never meant to be."

"Joey, I..."

"Dawson. Now would not be time to grow a brain, okay?"

Dawson sighed. "You know, if I were a psychiatrist I'd tell you that you're in severe denial."

Joey winced. "Then there, Dawson, is the reason they'll never let you on their books. Give up on the psychoanalysis. Or at least, save it for the film stills and editing machine. I, as a subject, am totally out of bounds."

Dawson grinned. "Sure Joey."

*********************

Pacey shot both Joey and the Miss Carling a look as the teacher turned her back, walking to the front of the classroom, dropping his bag to the floor and siting down at a desk in the centre of the classroom, next to Joey.

"Late, Pacey?" Miss Carling called.

Pacey gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I was taking care of business in the bathroom." Miss Carling looked at him in suspicion and he smiled. "Oh you know," he said offhandedly, "Selling drugs, pimping the girls, generally corrupting the school in any way at all possible."

The teacher looked at Joey questioningly. "Miss Potter?"

Joey shrugged, smiling tightly. "Oh, I took care of all "business" this morning."

Miss Carling looked at them in annoyance and frustration. "You two are far too sarcastic for your own good."

Pacey shook his head, sighing. "It's really a tragedy, isn't it?" he said in a mock-concerned voice.

Miss Carling sighed and gave up, sitting down at her desk. "Okay, since your apparent "enthusiasm" is so...overwhelming," she said dryly, "I'll begin my explanation of the project now and you can start early."

Joey raised an eyebrow. "You're so kind. Really." Pacey grinned, turning to her and shooting her a look. She returned the smile, albeit weakly.

"Okay. This project will be 40% of your final grade in this class. And," she added, "a 10% of your English course."

Joey's head shot up. "What?" she said flustered, startled.

Miss Carling smiled, pleased to have caught her attention. "Mr Derren believes that this work will be extremely beneficial and act as significant part of your group and oral work."

"Oh God," Joey whispered, rubbing her temples. Perhaps modern theatre was a class she could have handled getting a bad grade in, but English? Damn, it mattered too much, and here she was, with Pacey and absolutely no idea what they would do.

Pacey shot her a concerned look but didn't say anything to her. Instead he cleared his throat. "So, uh...Miss Carling. What exactly do we have to do?"

**************************** Pacey walked quietly beside Joey wondering if she noticed that he was watching her. She didn't seem to mind, but the silence wasn't a factor he'd been anticipating. Antipathy, maybe, caustic wit, certainly. Silence? He hadn't thought so.

"Jo?"

"Uh-huh." Pacey laughed slowly. "Two syllables with no trace of riposte in sight. Are you feeling okay?"

She smiled gently. "My brain's experiencing an inordinate amount of calming time. Not..." She turned to look at him. "Not every moment is emotionally charged anymore."

Pacey raised his eyebrows. "Is Miss Potter finding Capeside's dull monotony a little hard to handle?"

Joey shook her head. "No, Pacey. I don't know, things seem....different to how they were. Calmer, somehow less tragic." She smiled wryly. "Somehow less wonderful. It's a limbo that doesn't feel quite right. No," she added quickly, "it's not that it feels wrong. It just feels different."

Pacey was silent for a moment. "I'm suddenly feeling the downside to my lack of psychoanalysis"

Joey smiled. "Hey, it's okay. I didn't want it."

Pacey nodded slowly. "I'm guessing this has something to do with Tom's departure. I admit, losing the other half is a less than enlightening experience." He winced, thinking of Andie.

"What?" her breath was short, hurried as she turned to him startled.

Pacey feigned complete calm. He shrugged noncommittally. "I thought this might be the aftermath of a..." He paused, searching for the words. "Fiery, passionate fling."

Joey winced. "Sure, Pacey. Make my pathetic existence sound as much like a trashy novel as humanely possible."

Pacey scowled at her. "Right, Jo. Placid, tranquil. Definitely the right adjectives to describe that moment in your life."

Joey struggled to calm herself, not wanting to let loose on him, not at the risk of a curious follow-through that would have to result in an explanation. "Maybe not," she said finally.

"So....this is your post-boyfriend stress relief?"

Joey smiled tiredly. "The not so-dramatic denouement."

"Yeah?"

She turned, studying him for a moment. "Yeah." Joey sighed. "Look Pace, at the risk of actually baring my heart, a process I really don't want you on the receiving end of, let me explain. He left. And you know...It's not like I expected him to stay. Truth be told, maybe I was relieved."

He was surprised. "What? You two looked like you had a great time." He winced. "That was, the times when I saw anything other than your tongues down each other's throats."

Joey blushed, and she didn't want him to see. It was true, she'd grown up a lot in the last few years, but on the precocious teen scale, Pacey still had the upper hand. And the ability to make her blush.

"Yeah, well, the tongue was one of his finer features."

It was Pacey's turn to look a little uncomfortable, and she decided it was definitely her turn to rub it in. Absentmindedly she lifted a hand to shade the sunlight and stopped, staring out at the beach.

"His hands weren't too bad either. For certain...activities."

Pacey looked positively ready to throw up, and it was a good thing, she thought. "Activities?" he asked weakly.

Joey smiled wickedly. "What, you thought you were the only one who took sexual tutoring as an extra-curriculum?"

Pacey opened his mouth as if to say something, a retort, and then stopped himself. He turned away from her and looked out towards the beach, leaning against the railing. "I don't know," he said softly. "I just didn't figure you for the..."

Something caught in her throat as she turned to him. "What?" she asked weakly, for a moment hating him and hating herself for the disappointment she could see in his eyes. "Slut type?"

He turned to her quickly. No, Jo, I didn't mean..." He could see the anger in her eyes and he regretted his comment.

"You took a wrong turn at stupid," she said softly. "Bad move."

He groaned inwardly. "I'm sorry Jo, I didn't mean to imply that..."

"No," she cut him off. "You didn't need to." She paused, looking up at the sky. "I'm late," she said softly.

Pacey breathed again, relieved that she had changed the subject. "Fine, let's head back then."

She turned to him again, her eyes wide, cold amusement lying there. "Not that kind of "late", you idiot. Inform: you've decided to acquire a little naivete in your old age?"

"What?" he said, startled. She was just staring back at him. He thought he was going to fall over. "You're pregnant? How did you..."

Joey rolled her eyes. "Well this is hardly Bethlehem, Pace, and I'm hardly the Madonna. And here we're a long way off pure. How many ways are there?"

"Jesus Christ."

She smiled wryly. "Well no, but Tom did have a few saintly qualities. Few and far between, maybe, but they were there. "

Pacey's eyes were wide, bright. "God."

Joey sighed. "It's a little late for the religious sanctification, Pacey."

He was quiet for a moment. "What are you going to do?"

Joey laughed. "Pacey, I don't know why I mentioned it. It just slipped. I'm a couple of days late max; at least for the moment I have nothing to worry about. Okay?"

He stared at her. "Okay."

Joey rolled her eyes. "I need to go now, alright? Think you can handle going from A to B, AKA here to home, without attracting too much trouble?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I think so, Jo."

"Good." She sighed. "We'll need to work tomorrow. I know it's a Saturday but we'd better get a handle on this project."

He groaned aloud. "You mean study hours are actually possible Friday-through Sunday? It'll be a first for me."

She smiled slyly, raising an eyebrow. "Well, maybe it'll be a night of firsts."

Pacey stared straight back, unperturbed. He looked down, eyes remaining on her abdomen for a few seconds, before rising to her face again. "I don't think so," he pointed out.

Her face was red, heat flushing her cheeks at his eyes on her. "Bastard," she muttered.

He smiled. "Of course. Tomorrow?"

Joey didn't answer for a moment. "Tomorrow," she said finally. She turned then, pulling her bag back over her shoulder and walking towards her house, leaving him behind her, standing there in silence.

Part Two